Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

What do you call a toddler-to-be who has just discovered the joys of climbing stairs?

"Eli! Stop! Get Away From There!"

... and a lot of other panic-based expletives better left within the private confines of our apartment.

Eli is thirteen months old and has yet to take his first step. He pulls himself up and navigates among the furniture, letting go to stand alone for minutes at a time, only to lose confidence and fall back down on hands and knees to speed-crawl his way across the floor.

He has tried getting a leg up the water dispenser bottle. Ho-hum. And the sack of rice. Boooring. Then right about the same time his Manong Woog dispensed with afternoon naps altogether, he discovered the stairs. All two sets of them.

In a cautiously daring expedition, he scooted over to the vertical wonder from whence he'd often observed giants going up and down. Pullling himself up the first step, he lifted one leg, trembling. Then back down. Leg up again. Then back down.

Finally, resolutely locking his full lower lip, he brought himself up two steps before we all turned our heads to check on his whereabouts. Yaya screamed. Needless to say, we screamed along with her.

Hair-raising episode notwithstanding, we are tentatively looking to see how this latest caper goes. Under extremely close supervision, of course. Who knows, we may just be raising the future rock climbing champion.

In pretty much the same way champions are made, Woog just recently decided to champion his own cause - constant wakeful awareness. In particular, during the period normally designated for his afternoon nap.

I read up on afternoon naps for children and discovered that around this stage, five-year-olds normally forsake siesta for other worthier pursuits - like Disney Channel marathons or engaging in wrestling matches with a five-inch Transformers action figure.

However, put in the perspective of his slight, constantly asthmatic figure, his father and I had to put our foot down. It isn't an amusing pasttime having to painstakingly explain the addition of two-digit numerals while your drowsy student hangs his head sleepily during homework nights. By 8pm, he is a useless wreck.

Atch went up the slippery roof one rainy evening and removed Woog's cable channel connection. We told endless stories over the dinner table about how our respective fathers would whup us soundly for not observing the afternoon siesta rule. I described my belt-weals in graphic detail. Atch related the time he attempted to evade nap time by going over the family gate. His great escape was foiled when he slipped and grazed his temple on a pointed metal spoke. He ended the blood-splattered tale by showing wide-eyed Woog his scar.

Still, no go. Woog continued to remain awake during siesta hour. In the face of his delicate heath and a particularly nasty asthma attack.

We've even considered whupping his narrow ass. *Sigh*

Meanwhile, our younger son has taken on the highly entertaining hobby of single-fingeredly slaying ants. Ummm! He'd go, squashing their tiny bodies with his fat forefinger, even as his Manong Woog whimpers away from the creatures.

What a cha-cha this is! Two steps forward, one step back, swinging our hips for balance, raising our sons in this frenzied dance called life. And praying, constantly praying, that we get all the steps right.